I gave a terse nod. This was the reaction Valentina had expected from me. Yet, I still couldn’t show her what I felt, that I was looking forward to having a child with her.

Our child. It was a startling thought. I’d made my peace with not having children when Carla had become sick. I’d never blamed her, even when she often felt guilty for not giving me an heir like everyone expected from her. It had almost felt like another betrayal that Valentina had become pregnant so quickly. Not only did I desire Valentina, did I long for her closeness but she’d also give me what Carla couldn’t.

I tore myself out of my thoughts when I realized how worriedly Giovanni watched me. “Are you all right?”

“Of course,” I said. “Valentina and I are excited about becoming parents.”

He narrowed his eyes in thought. “Are you sure everything is all right? Is it about the baby? Is it a girl?”

I grimaced. “Even if it were a girl, I’d be happy. The child is fine.”

Was it? I hadn’t talked to Valentina about our child yet, had never accompanied her to the doctor. Fuck. I was a goddamn bastard.

“How about we focus on business now? Rocco will be here soon.”

Giovanni nodded slowly, but I could tell that he wasn’t happy with me. That made two of us.

I’d been buried in work all day, and yet my thoughts had revolved around Valentina. The house was silent when I returned. Maybe Valentina was over at Bibiana. Maybe she was avoiding me like I avoided her. I needed to get past my pride, past my goddamn stubbornness and talk to my wife.

I stepped into my office and tensed when I found Valentina inside. The moment she turned around to me, I knew something was very wrong.

She looked heartbroken and close to tears. My insides turned to stone. Had something happened to the baby?

Relief flooded me when she told me about seeing Antonio, about his plot to have me killed. It was astonishing how disturbing news like that was still better than the alternative: than Val telling me something had happened to our baby. I could handle traitors. I couldn’t handle losing our child.

When Valentina was done telling me about Antonio’s plan, she was crying softly, her eyes searching mine almost desperately. I wiped the tears away with my thumb.

“You know what’s strange?” she whispered thickly. “At one point, I thought I could never love someone as I loved Antonio, no matter how unrequited that love was. And today I’m condemning him to his death for another man who will never love me back.”

My hand against Valentina’s cheek stilled. I’d avoided considering the extent of my feelings for Val, preferred to shield myself from them. I’d been in love with everything Carla symbolized—piety, innocence, virtuousness, pure goodness—long before I’d loved her. Love had come over time and then it had burned so fiercely that it had almost incinerated me when it had been ripped from me. I never wanted to be caught up in something as destructive as love again. That showed my arrogance: thinking I was above the strongest human emotion, that I could decide not to love ever again.

“We shouldn’t wait too long. Maybe he’ll realize it was stupid to contact you and he’ll decide to go back into hiding. We need to reach him before that,” I said, still fighting a battle I had already lost. So arrogant and prideful.

Valentina stepped out of my reach and I dropped my hand.

I needed to handle the traitors now. That was all I could focus on.

It was always easier to unleash your anger on others than on yourself, even if it was me whom I despised with a fiery passion.

I removed my jacket and rolled up my sleeves as I regarded Antonio and Raffaele bound to chairs in front of me. Stark terror reflected in their eyes and it was a beautifully satisfying sight.

I’d promised Valentina to end Antonio quickly, knowing I was lying. I couldn’t spare him, not only because I needed the information he harbored but also because I needed to satisfy the dark hunger in my veins asking for blood, for pain, for screams.

Arturo stood back, reading my mood curiously. “You want to handle them?”

I inclined my head with a cold smile that made Raffaele squirm in his seat, then groan against the tape covering his mouth. His kneecaps were splintered but that wouldn’t kill him. The shot wound in Antonio’s stomach was a bigger problem, but Arturo had bandaged it so he wouldn’t bleed out too soon.

“For now,” I said.

Arturo nodded and leaned against the wall. He’d only recently taken over from his father as Enforcer but he was a capable asset. He enjoyed the torture, which was always a helpful trait in our line of work. Yet sometimes I worried he enjoyed it a bit too much. One look at his eager dark eyes told me he was impatient for me to start. Right then, my own eyes probably held the same deranged need for bloodshed.

I let my gaze slide over the display of knives, scalpels and other utensils intended to make a traitor’s last hours as agonizing as possible. Arturo always tested new utensils, disturbingly creative in his job.

I preferred ordinary torture methods. Unsheathing my knife, I stepped up to Antonio and ripped away the tape. He cried out. “Think of Val. She’d never want you to torture me,” he croaked.

It was the wrong thing to say, reminding me of his connection to Val, of how he failed her like I’d failed her so far. Even knowing that he was gay, the thought of him kissing Val, of touching her sent a spear of jealous rage through me. I smiled and he began shaking. “Val won’t ever find out, now will she?”

Antonio swallowed, his eyes darting to my Enforcer. If he hoped for help, he was very mistaken.

“You will tell me everything I want to know, every little detail, about this coup, about your fellow conspirators. But first… about Val.”

Antonio’s eyes widened.

I had Raffaele to torture for information on the conspiracy, but Antonio was the only one who could help me understand my wife, the very essence of her being, and maybe my conflicting emotions for her.

I changed clothes before I returned home. The house was eerily silent when I stepped inside. Taft was in his guardhouse and Zita and Gabby must already have gone home. I headed up the staircase in search for Valentina. After the picture Antonio had painted about my wife, my guilt set even heavier on my shoulders. Val was a good woman, trying to help the people she loved with everything she had.

The sound of running water drew me into the bathroom and the sight before me broke through the dark clouds the torture had plastered over my soul. Val cowered in the shower, her legs pulled tightly to her chest as water rained down on her. Her hair was plastered to her shivering body. I stalked toward her and turned off the water, surprised to find it hot when Valentina’s goosebumps suggested she was cold.

I couldn’t explain what I felt looking down at my broken-hearted wife, at her anguish and sorrow. The tortured cries of Antonio and Raffaele had done nothing to me but my wife’s state tore at me.

I picked Valentina up and lifted her into my arms, feeling her shake against me. I wanted to protect her from all evil in this world, but the greatest of all evil were my own demons.

I set Val down, but she clung to me even as I dried her with a towel. She surprised me by burying her face in my neck, shuddering.